


mind over matter

by 78lwt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/78lwt/pseuds/78lwt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis is world famous and a straight up douchebag, Niall plays guitar with him on stage, Liam loves Zayn so much it burns, and Harry cheats on his boyfriend. There's also lots of alcohol and not-really-perscripted drugs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first stort i've ever posted and idk i just want to have fun with it yeah??
> 
> i do not own one direction etc, but i do own this text. places/characters are fictional to fit the story  
> (also english is not my native tongue and yea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> louis wins an award, harry hangs out with his monkey man and zayn is referred to as "cheekbone-boy"

Louis couldn’t breathe. He looked out over the crowd, a little hidden behind the podium, clutching a golden price of some kind at a gala he didn’t know the name of. A too dressed up Niall was laughing behind him, and Louis wanted to punch him. Could he shut that giant mouth of his for one fucking second so Louis could at least attempt to form words, to thank everybody for a prize he didn’t even deserve? So he casually elbowed him in the ribs, making Niall’s suit-clad body bend over slightly. A smile formed on Louis’ lips now, happily pleased over his succeeded try. Niall pressed his lips into a thin line, still smiling, but keeping quiet. Louis let his teeth show, confident and whatnot, opening his mouth to start a thank you-speech he should’ve prepared. Or have Brenda prepared. Whatever comes first, for better or worse.

“I just… Wow. Thank you. A massive thank you to everyone who has ever helped me, really. It’s been an amazing journey so far, and an amazing year. Most importantly, though, all the fans. I would be nowhere without you. Thank you Niall, for backing me up at all times,” Louis finished off with a smile, placing a hand on Niall’s arm, who started laughing even harder. He knew Louis was improvising, and it was bad. He raised the golden thing to thundering applause and wanted to get the fuck off that stage as soon as possible. Niall was close behind him, rushing down the stairs in kind of sync, getting back to their seats. Louis took a deep breath, put on his best gratitude-face, and waved some, shook some hands and got some hands placed on his shoulder.

“Amazing night, innit?” Niall whispered as they sat down, and Louis kept himself from swatting at his head by gripping his own thigh very hard. Pushing the words out through his teeth, he looked over at Niall. “You’re sleeping in the hallway tonight,” Louis tilted his head, raised his eyebrows, smiling with his mouth closed like he was indicating something he surely wasn’t.

And Niall surely did not get it.

“Oh, you’re pulling tonight then? S’pose I should’ve figured that much, yeah? Big night, big night. Ladies will be all over you. I’ll just call Liam and have him and that cheekbone-boy make some room for me.”

“First of all, Niall, I am certainly not pulling anything. And second of all, cheekbone-boy’s name is Zayn.”

“Fit as fuck, that’s for sure. Liam’s a lucky guy.”

“Hey, Liam’s good looking too.”

“But have you seen Zayn? He looks like he’s God’s gift to the human race, man. Fuck me, yeah? I’d go gay for him in a heartbeat.”

Louis shook his head, amused and a little scared. Out of his twenty-three years he had known Niall for all of them, Liam for most of them, and Zayn whenever they started dating. So like, four years. Fuck Liam for finding his soul mate or whatever at _seven-fucking-teen_ while Louis was still struggling with deciding between boys and girls. Maybe a little of both, yeah? Why say no to one when you can have it all?

Niall woke him from his thoughts by hitting his shoulder a little too hard, pointing over towards Taylor Swift. “Look at her. She’s gonna dance soon, I can feel it. Just send Nicki up on stage, or something, and she’ll start looking a little constipated and like a hot blob.”

“Oh, shut up, Niall. I know you would try to get with her in a heartbeat.”

Niall was leaning forward, resting his chin on his arms and his arms on his knees, and he looked up at Louis at that, smiling a little unsecure. “Oh, shut up, Louis. You would too. Actually, you’d do it with anything that moves. Or lets you.”

“You’re such a liar. You know I can choose. Now focus on the show, we’ll be out of here in two hours, and we’ll be drunk in two and a half.”

-

Much as Louis predicted, Niall had his tongue drunkenly stuck down some blonde resembling-Taylor-Swift-a-lot’s throat. He was lounged in the corner, watching people heave drinks down and dance like they got something stuck up their bum. He laughed a little, switching around, eyeing girls and secretively boys up and down, deciding on whom to go for this time. He’s ready and he wants nothing more than someone who can make him forget his pain and actually maybe enjoy his night. He is rather picky, has every right to be with his fame, looks, and money, and doesn’t settle for something any guy could have. He wants the extraordinary; he needs the extraordinary, spicing up his dulled up and bored lifestyle filled with camera flashes, fancy dinners, and screaming girls. He knows he can have anyone he wants, simply because everyone else wants him, which gives him a billion options. This time, everybody looks like they’re dressed in the same cheap copies, drowning in the same perfume and the same drinks, moving the same way, and simply being the same, exact way. Basically, shagging one is shagging everyone.

Louis didn’t need that. He was blessed with the freedom to choose and to deny without worrying that would be his last chance.

This would just be one of those nights, he thinks, shaking his head after drowning the last of his drink, closing his eyes while sighing. He scans the crowd one more time, giving them all one last chance to stand out, with no results whatsoever. He’s going to leave with nothing. And if this wouldn’t be the third time this week, he wouldn’t have cared as much. But he needs something. Whatever is fine, and god, Niall was right. Louis would sleep with anything that moves, at least on nights like this when his heart feels too big for his chest and his pants too small for his dick. And if the moon hadn’t been shining through the windows into the dark room, giving it some 80s American-Italian bad movie feeling, he might not have felt the loneliness he pushed away harder than anything swell inside of his legs and burn his bones.

But there it was. And here he goes.

Pushing through the crowd, avoiding peoples’ grabbing hands and desperate tries to get his attention, he went through the door; needing to be outside, be somewhere else, see something else.

He was met by a back, a tall figure hunched over someone slightly smaller, the same tall figure holding a cigarette in one hand and the smaller one’s cheek in the other, pushing smoke and tongue and kisses into his mouth. The taller figure had loose curls falling down his shoulders, and as Louis walked around them to get out, he saw they were pushed out of the taller figure’s occupied face by a headband. Sexy. He had a jawline made to cut glass, big hands, closed eyes, a black t-shirt and black jeans and black boots, and fuck, this is what Louis has been looking for. It was perfect, except for that everything Louis was looking for was right now preoccupied by another gentleman, a gentleman who was standing a little on his toes and who was dressed in the ugliest, grey t-shirt Louis had ever seen, and who was also clutching onto the arms of the taller figure’s arms like he was some desperate monkey.

Louis scoffed, realised he had been staring, turned around with a slight blush, and lit his own cigarette, needing to calm his head and heart down. The tall figure was it. He was the art Louis needed, the guy who could break Louis heart if he would let him (and he wouldn’t), and the guy who could probably fuck him into seventh heaven and let Louis do the same (they would switch bottoming, you see, sometimes it’s nice to get some and others to give some). Louis smiled, just thinking of it having him half-hard, and he had to stop himself because he didn’t know who this guy was, making out with some clown right behind him, didn’t know his name or his grandma’s name or where he lived or what he liked and what he wanted, and Louis had to stop himself again because knowing those things, simply wanting to know those things, is the easiest way to heartbreak. And Louis wouldn’t have that. Definitely not.

So he smoked his cigarette calmly, wiping his sweaty hands off on his dress pants, pretending not to hear the sounds of the kissing going on behind him, shrugging his shoulders from the cold to get his rolled-up sleeves down to his hands. He put his hands in his pockets when he was done, looking back to see the small monkey being pushed up against the wall now, the tall figure one hand on each side of him, kissing down his neck. Please, this was like a live porno. And fuck, Louis did not need this.

But he did know what he needed. And that he was going to do everything to get it.

-

Two hours, eleven too strong drinks, and five more girls on Niall’s part (all slightly resembling Taylor) later, they were seated in the back area of the club, feeling the two am strike creeping up more on them.

“Where’s the guy then?” Niall slurred.

“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in forever,” Louis slurred worse.

“I bet you’ll never even see him again, Tommo. You missed your chance by not ripping him off that small monkey person,” Niall was laughing, again.

“I bet you’re wrong,” Louis wiggled his eyebrows to Niall right as he spotted the tall figure behind him. “Because he is right over there.”

Niall turned around faster than Louis could blink, turned back almost as fast. “The tall one, innit? This whole size thing you have going on, Lou..”

“Oh, shut up, Niall, stop taking the piss. What about you, yeah? So far, tonight only, have you had your tongue in seven different girls’ mouths, who all kinda-sorta look like Taylor Swift. Excuse me for liking my men tall, like you like your girls like Taylor.”

Niall was wide and blue-eyed, and Louis smirked. “Can he turn around at least? He looks fit from the back, but I want to see his face.”

“His jawline can cut steel,” Louis continued to smirk.

And as the tall boy turned around five minutes later, Louis kicking Niall’s shin so he’ll turn to see him too, they’re not disappointed.

“I mean, he’s no cheekbone-boy, but he’s not bad,” Niall whispers closely to Louis’ ear.

“They’re not really comparable. Sorry you have some mad crush on Liam’s boyfriend, but you cannot compare two completely different people like that.”

Niall shrugged his shoulders, and Louis wasn’t sure how much of that he meant and how much he was just drunk-bullshitting, and honestly, he didn’t care. The tall figure was all he could see right now, and meanwhile Zayn looked amazing, his feelings kind of differed from Niall’s crush. Zayn had _nothing_ on this guy. Sure, Louis was so drunk he could barely make out his own fingers in the hazy room, but this boy, this man, had eyes greener than a deep forest but at the same time greyer than a stormy sky, if that’s even possible, and a smile wider than anything and skin looking so pure Louis could snort cocaine of it. Pink, plump lips. Big, fucking hell, hands. Fuck Louis if this wasn’t everything he could ever look for in a man. Too bad this man was draped over the small monkey man, now leaning in to kiss the monkey man’s fucking neck, and Louis wanted to throw up.

So he did.

Maybe (probably mostly) it was the alcohol, but he dropped down to the side and it all just… came. It was gross. Disgusting even.

And Niall screamed a little, jumped up very fast, grabbed Louis arm faster, dragged him off to the bathroom with a wink to the guy behind the bar to clean it up. In the bathroom, by that stupid toilet, it became even worse and Louis couldn’t stop for thirty minutes.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This never happened. But tonight just wasn’t his night. That was until Niall left ten minutes after the liquids and what else had stopped coming out to get him a glass of water, Louis leaning his head against the wall feeling tremendously better and less drunk but still like shit and an emotional mess. He was tired, his suit was wrinkled and dirty and god he should’ve changed, and he wanted to sink through the fucking floor when the tall figure walked in, giving Louis a questioning look in his opened stall before moving on to washing his hands.

Louis pounded his head slightly against the wall in frustration because god, could it get any better?, and groaned loudly out of regret and pain that came from it.

The tall figure stopped instead of leaving, walked over instead of running away, standing over him, smiling. Louis looked up, and this close, the figure’s eyes wasn’t the same.

They were palm trees reflecting in the ocean, secret lakes in exotic countries, but they were dull.

Dead. Nothing. Surely, there was a bight smile on the boy’s lips. A bright smile that wasn’t even close to reaching his eyes. There was emptiness deeper than the Atlantic, nothing behind eyelids weighed down by alcohol and late nights. He looked heavy. Tired. Empty. Louis suddenly had this strange feeling of heat. He was burning. His inside was raging with this intense fire, something he couldn’t stop. All because of the way this boy looked tonight, sending Louis straight to heaven and hell at the same time.

“I like my men in a suit,” the tall figure said, winking, flirting, and fuck. His voice was low, husky, a little raspy like he had just sucked someone off, and his outstretched hand to help Louis up made Louis want to turn himself inside out and scream.

Fuck.

He took it with a low “thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Saw what happened out there. Not your night?” the figure raised his eyebrows, still smiling an eyeless smile, and Louis pressed his lips together and smiled with half of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that. It all started with seeing the one you want with somebody else.”

“Who’s the lucky girl, then? Maybe I can help.”

“It’s a guy, and no, not really.”

The tall figure straightened up a bit, his beautiful eyes raking up and down Louis’ body before turning his head to check the door behind them.

“His miss then, really. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“I’m Louis,” Louis said and nodded, Harry making his way back out, to the loud and ear pounding music and sweaty bodies.

He giggled, fucking giggled, a little before saying, “Believe me, I know. Not every day a celebrity checks you out like that.” And then he was gone.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis finishes up his tour and wonders how the hell Harry got into a celebrity party, Zayn is sad that he doesn't know what Harry looks like, and Niall thinks the best way to cure a hangover is by drinking more

The next time Louis sees Harry is after his last show, the fucking final show of his tour, and Harry is standing in the middle of the dance floor, clutching a champagne bottle Louis couldn’t even begin to pronounce the name of. He looked tired, weighed down, and Louis lost his gaze for a couple of seconds. He continued to look out a little from the balcony he was standing on, trying to make out the faces of the people that had decided to show (not that they had any choice, really), watching them dance and drink.

Niall was leaning against a wall in the back, chatting with some girl who seemed a little familiar. He had his blonde hair nicely pushed back and smiled a little too much, signaling that he was going all in for it. Louis smiled, remembered a vague time he would get that kind of attention without the person wanting him because of his money and fame. When somebody wanted him for _him_ , not someone they had portrayed him as.

Doing another scan, a strange feeling of satisfaction he would never admit pooling in his tummy, he met Harry’s stare again. His eyes could cut you in two, leaving you bleeding your heart out while confessing your love without even knowing him.

Harry was still standing on the floor below him; tilting his head, smiling without opening his mouth or letting it reach his eyes. Louis looked away once more, tried to lose Harry in the crowd and forget his boring glare. Louis looked towards the back of the club, at Zayn or maybe at Niall groping this girl he has hooked up with multiple times, who seemed to enjoy it very much. He soon couldn’t take it, and continued to glare at Harry with a mix of admiration and distaste.

He seemed far more distant this time, and Louis wasn’t sure he liked it. He was dressed in black jeans and a white, nice fitting t-shirt, even though the dress code obviously was a little more than that, and Louis found himself wondering how Harry even got in. This was a celebrity party, after all.

Harry’s knuckles were white from grasping the bottle hard, taking a large drink from it before making his way back into the crowd, towards the restrooms in the back. Maybe he remembered himself or realised he forgot something.

Louis felt weird watching it. Nauseous even. There was just something about his eyes tonight. The uneasy feeling was spreading, and he couldn’t stop himself when he was grabbing for the railing in the shitty stair that was way too old for a club this modern, couldn’t even force himself to stop for the people who was grabbing for him, gawking for his attention, his eyes, and his touch. They all tried to reach for him, to talk to him or maybe to congratulate him again on his worldwide success. He didn’t care though; he had said his thanks over a billion times a couple of hours earlier, and he was done being nice for the evening. All that mattered right now was the empty looking boy with too heavy eyelids and this druggie feeling oozing around him.

The fire inside him from the other night continued to burn, maybe even more intense than before, and it was actually burning his lungs when he was recklessly opened the door to the men’s room, finding it completely empty but dim, only the big stall in the back occupied. Louis was so sure Harry was in there he didn’t even stop to give this all a second though, and before he even knew it he was pulling that door open too, revealing a pretty boy perched on a shitty toilet in a shitty booth at an everything but shitty party.

There was something beautiful, if only terrifyingly beautiful, about the way Harry was sitting there, feet on the closed lid and back hunched towards the wall. It was stupid, really. But he was beautiful.

His head was bent backwards, resting on the wall with the bottle held tight in his right hand. Traces of white powder on his cheek and hands, a little on his black jeans. With one last deep breath of courage, since Harry still hadn’t noticed him, Louis walked in, wiping his sweaty hands on his dress pants and fixing his jacket. He went all in, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder without thinking, and Louis should be scared. Maybe not scared, but something else, something more, than the vague feeling of regret and distaste and _interest_ in this boy in front of him. There was something about the way Harry looked that sent him straight to heaven and hell, and finally, _fucking finally_ , Harry tilted his head up long enough to open his eyes and see Louis. Harry might have not felt Louis touch, but he couldn’t deny it now, when his bloodshot and messy eyes found Louis’. The rest of the club, and whole evening, actually, seemed long gone, far away and behind everything.

“Hi,” Harry said, his voice strained and prickled with something unrecognisable, and Louis’ heart completely combusted, exploding into a thousand pieces of fiery pearls.

“Do you need anything?” was his answer, and as vague and bad as it is, it was all he got.

“Nothing you can give,” Harry pushed off, pushed away, holding the bottle tight, maybe even tighter. Harry shrugged further away by standing up, brushing off his jeans slightly, combing through his curls, and wiping around his eyes and mouth.

Louis knew Harry was about to leave.

He broke into Harry’s space, crossed a line he knew he was crossing, a desperate attempt at stopping something he had no control over.

“Did you want anything?”

And Louis was more than surprised by his question. What did he want, really? What was he going after, following Harry like this?

“Not really,” is the only answer he has, but somehow, the boy with the dead, stormy eyes reads into it, and reads into it correctly.

Harry nods but doesn't leave, and he doesn’t say the words they both thought he would. ”Thought you might want some,” is what comes out instead.

Louis shakes his head anyway. ”No, no. I guess I just... panicked.”

Harry looks towards the door for a second, listening to the muffled music behind the walls. They both knew why Louis was there, what his shady words meant, and as they both froze into the heaviness and darkness of where they are, Harry opens his mouth.

”There’s nothing to save, you know that, right?”

Louis looks at Harry a little while longer, hands still by his side, clutching his phone through his pockets for no particular reason. Harry’s phone then suddenly rings; the beats of a standard iPhone tune echoing between the empty, black walls. He looks back at Louis, saying it’s his boyfriend and that he should probably answer. Harry leaves faster than Louis can process, and he’s left in the half-darkness of the men’s room, only remembering that he forgot to ask Harry how the hell he got in.

-

Louis woke up with pizza on his face, not sure how he got home. They were at Liam’s somehow, all of them, sprawled on the floor and on the couch. Niall’s bum was very much too near his face for his liking, and it was important for him to get away from his current spot. He tried to get up, but Niall’s body was weighing him down. So he paused for a moment, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before they wake up.

Luckily, it wasn’t.

Slowly Zayn’s body started moving and not soon after, Niall’s bum was out of his face. Thank god. He checked the time: 3.14pm. Fantastic.

“Can someone _please_ make some food,” Zayn groaned, but no one seemed up for it. They all somehow moved over to the kitchen, mumbling and huffing to each other while sitting themselves down on the barstools surrounding the little kitchen island.

“Please never give us anything like that again, Zayn,” Niall mumbled while stretching his arms out over his head, referring to the little white pills Zayn had so many of in the drawer next to his bed.

“Yeah, not again please,” Liam agreed while rubbing his temples and resting his elbows on the table.

“I’m regretting everything I’ve ever done up until this moment,” Louis said while staring straight ahead, down at the table.

“You’re seriously pouring yourself a glass of wine right now?” Liam asked Niall while he opened up the bottle from the top shelf in their kitchen.

“Louis, what’s that on your face?” Zayn asked Louis as Niall shrugged his shoulders and gave Liam the finger.

“Probably pizza.”

“Who ate pizza?” Liam asked from the couch.

“Hey, did you see your crush last night, Lou? The guy who has some monkey super far up his ass,” Niall said and emptied his glass in less than ten seconds.

“I haven’t even seen him, I want to know what he looks like,” Zayn looked genuinely disappointed that no one had invited him to the “look at Harry”-party.

“You probably won’t. I’m never drinking again, and I’ll probably never leave the house ever again, either.”

Niall laughed and poured himself another before Liam got up and snatched the bottle out of his hand.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis invites Harry to a magical evening, Niall downloads a new iPhone-game

“So, what happens next?” Niall asked after taking out his ear-thingies, giving the guitar to Mark as he rushed up to collect it.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, that was the last award show and performance for a while, new album’s isn’t out until April, you’re practically in love with some random guy you’ve talked to, in total, for thirty seconds, who also has a boyfriend and whom you’ll probably never see again, so, what’s next?”

“First of all, I’m going to enjoy my freedom. I don’t have promotions and shit for three weeks. Then, I’m going to find this random guy. And then, I’ll just bang one out of my system, yeah? Problem solved.”

“He’s not that cute.”

“Just because you have a crush on Liam’s boyfriend, doesn’t mean no one else is beautiful.”

“That’s the most sincere you’ve ever been, mate. Let’s go though, I don’t wanna start yapping about feelings and shit, yeah?”

The black Range Rover Niall stupidly bought for money he does not have, since most of it was Louis’, pulled up by the back door of the venue, and they got out without being seen or stormed by some girls trying to get an ass-squeeze.

“Liam’s?”

Louis nodded.

Niall took out a bottle of vodka from under the seat. Louis had no idea how it got there, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Let’s get fucking banjaxed before we even get there, yeah?” he smiled and took a shot straight out of it.

“Only if you stop using that fucking Irish slang, _mate_.”

-

Liam was holding Zayn’s hand in the kitchen when they got there. They lived in a small apartment in the northern parts of London with big windows and white sheets.

“Took you long enough,” Zayn smiled when they barged in without knocking or waiting.

Liam was not smiling. “What if we were doing stuff, and you would’ve walked in on us?” he exclaimed.

“First of all; nothing I wouldn’t have seen before, mate, remember that we went to uni together?” Louis laughed as well as Niall, high-fiving, (while Liam mumbled something like “until you dropped out, dumbass.”) “Second of all; I don’t care, and also, lock the fucking door?”

Niall agreed, as almost always, and let the bottle of vodka slip out of his hands. For an intense moment Louis could, through his water-blurred vision, see the horror in Liam’s eyes as the bottle, in extreme slow-motion, fell towards the wooden floor and the it-might-actually-break-and-splash-all-over feeling spreading throughout the room along with the agony of it happening. But it didn’t. It made a little thumping sound before rolling over to Liam’s feet.

“You both smell like hand-sanitizer,” he said, giving them the look of a disappointed mother.

“My new cologne,” Niall almost yelled, and boom, he was back. “I’m just gonna go and hang out over the toilet seat for a couple of minutes. You two go ahead and get on our level, and then we’ll go out. Got some invitation to some grand opening club not too far from here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Louis said before he, once again, threw up on the floor.

-

Zayn gave Louis a little white pill he bought from a guy on a parking lot. He put on his shoes on the wrong foot, and then they were off. The walk there gave him and Niall a little time to sober up, but it didn’t matter. They would get in; Louis knew that.

The music coming from the club was heard two streets away in spite of the city and its roaming sounds of life. When they got there, Louis was seeing two of Liam who was holding onto Zayn, who had also given Liam a little white pill. The guard let them in without blinking even though the club was packed and the line immensely long. Perks of being famous.

It was dark inside, a big fucking bar disk stretching on one side and hundreds of people dancing in the middle of the room. The dance floor was lower than the rest of the club, making it easy to look over. The flashing lights burned Louis eyes, dancing on his retinas and making him momentarily blind. He almost fell over, but Niall grabbed his arm, putting a drink in his hand, holding a whisky in his own.

“You haven’t had enough yet?” Louis asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Fuck that,” Niall said before practically drowning the whisky in one go, scrunching up his face like a little rabbit. He pulled Louis towards the dance floor, but turned left right before, heading towards the door that lead to the smoking patio. He lit a cigar, a fucking cigar, and blew out the smoke in Louis face before they even got out.

“Give me that,” Louis said, or something like it, he wasn’t sure in his current state. Niall had a couple of more ears than usual and green, slimy fishes were coming out of the brick wall. Something caught his eye, and suddenly, he felt like the world literally stopped. Or at least the fishes stopped coming out of the walls. He was staring into the eyes of his own personal devil and hell.

Harry.

Harry made his way over, smiling like a fucking idiot, and if Louis weren’t indescribably high right now, he probably would have noticed the change in Harry from the last time they saw each other. Not the same “nothing to save”-dark side speech, instead he grabbed Louis shoulder as he reached them, still smiling and throwing around his greetings like free money. Louis stared into his nostrils, seeing the stars and the moon in them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry asked, levelling with Louis face, trying to meet his eyes. He couldn’t though since Louis was staring into space, and it was absolutely amazing.

“I think I am very high on something I do not know what it is,” the words felt like sand on his tongue, and he put his drink to his mouth, trying to get it down in one go. He spilt half of it outside his mouth, onto his shirt and the pavement.

“I can tell. I’m surprised you’re out again tonight.”

Why was this idiot trying to hold a conversation? Couldn’t he tell that Louis wanted to lie down on the ground and eat a lot of food but sleep at the same time? Maybe take a bath and nap in the water?

Instead of telling him that, he said, “Where’s your monkey man?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Niall started laughing at that and swatted Louis on the arm, making Louis laugh as well.

Harry seemed unbelievably uncomfortable as far as Louis could tell, but he wasn’t sure since he wasn’t even sure if his feet were still on the ground.

He looked at Niall.

“I think I’m flying.”

“Fantastic, innit?”

Harry looked over at his friends. “Um, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Louis was not sure what was happening right now, but somewhere in his brain he knew he couldn’t let Harry go so soon.

“No, if you leave, you’ll never see me again.”

“Oh, you’re leaving London, then?”

“No, but I’ll probably be dead or something. Tonight is the night, and I’m one hundred per cent sure I’m gonna die and hang out with Jesus. Or maybe Satan, only time will tell.”

“Okay, but before I go, if you don’t die tonight, give me a call, yeah? And put on a suit next time,” Harry smiled a crooked smile and winked, rolling up Louis’ sleeve to scribble his phone number down with a black marker. Who does that?

“I’ll give this to Satan when I see him!” was the last words Louis remember speaking that night.

-

Louis woke up the next day and swore he had hit rock bottom. He had been out three times in the past four days with Niall. It had been a good time, a fucking smashing time actually, not that he remembered much of it. His mouth tasted like he had licked dirt of the ground last, his head felt blown up, and all he could remember were stars and sky. Niall had called him three times in the past hour, and it was already two o’clock. Fuck if he wasn’t hung-over as hell. And where the fuck was Niall? He tried calling him back, but no answer. A text from Liam though, telling him he and Zayn were at the art gallery and they were hanging out with some guy. Why did that matter right now? Was Niall sleeping outside? Be damned if he wasn’t.

Louis opened the door to a, indeed, sleeping Niall, in the hallway in his apartment building. How did he end up with this homeless man as his one true friend?

“Get up, dipshit,” Louis said and kicked him, making him snore a little louder and turning over. He mumbled “idiot” under his breath before grabbing Niall and dragging him into the penthouse. He closed the door loud enough for a normal person to wake up by it and loud enough for him to get an even worse headache. He strolled over to the couch after pulling the curtains down so the light wouldn’t get in and hauled a blanket over his head, praying he wouldn’t die from drinking too much. Niall eventually woke up and made a call, ordering enough food for ten people. Louis knew he wouldn’t get a taste of that.

It arrived, Louis took the blanket of his face, and they sat down at the table.

“Ordered some eggs for you, mate,” Niall said two seconds after he stuffed his mouth full of bacon.

“Didn’t your mum teach you manners?” Louis answered as he stretched out to get it.

“You look tired,” Niall said.

“I am.”

“Of what?”

“We’ve been up for like three days, man.”

“You looked tired before that,” Niall pushed.

“Drop it, alright? I’ve done more drugs these past days than I have done in my life. It’s a fucking normal reaction.”

“Whatever. Zayn invited us over tonight, by the way. Says he has something magical planned.”

“Oh fuck.”

“I’ll just bring something and you’ll bring someone.”

“Why can’t you bringing anyone then? We both could use distractions so we won’t have to look at Zayn trying to fuck Liam all night.”

“Yeah, but if you bring someone they will more than likely bring a friend. And that friend, boy or girl, is always a thousand times better than _any_ girl I ask to come to my friends mystery apartment for a so called “magical evening”.

“True, actually. I don’t have anyone to bring, though.”

“Harry? Idiot.”

“Don’t have his number.”

“I think you do, mate,” Niall said and pointed to his arm. A number, scribbled down big in black marker and signed with Harry was written across his left underarm.

“What the actual…? What did we do last night?”

“Fuck that, text him.”

And Louis did.

_Got any plans tonight?_

Harry answered fast, which was a little surprising.

_Satan?_

_That would be me._

_Nice. My friend is throwing a party, might go there._

_Visiting some friends. Wanna join?_

_Sure._

_Hyde Park, at 8. I’ll pick u up._

_☺_

Louis didn’t want Harry to know his address or have Harry’s address for that matter. Not yet, anyway.

“Hyde Park is central enough, right?”

“Honestly the stupidest place you could ever meet up with someone,” was all Niall said.

-

Harry’s late. It’s ten past eight, and he is not there. Preston, Louis’ driver, parks the car close and Louis gets out, walking up the weird-ass horse head statue, sits down and lights a cigarette. He waits patiently for fifteen minutes, not calling Harry and not receiving a call from Harry either.

This is a little rude, innit?

Niall rolls down the window in the car from the other side of the road and yells out a “where the fuck’s your boy toy, man? And did he bring a friend, preferably a girl?”

And as the words leave Niall’s mouth, Louis spots Harry a hundred metres down, walking, looking a little unsteady. When he arrives, he flops down next to Louis, tilts his head in his hand and gives him a lazy smile. His eyes are soft but dull.

“Hi?” Louis says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Hello, gorgeous. No suit today either?”

Louis looks down at his black jeans matched with a white t-shirt, a casual look for a casual evening, and gives Harry a look.

“Stop with the suit thing, will ya? You’re half an hour late,” he doesn’t want to point it out, really, but does anyway.

“Thought you would wait for me. You did. No harm done.”

“Probably shouldn’t have, though. Are you high?”

“Out of my fucking mind.”

Louis stands up. “Great. Can’t fucking leave you here, God knows what you’ll get yourself into, but ‘m not super keen on taking you with me either.”

Harry stands up as well, putting a hand to his side. His closes his eyes, breathes loudly through his nose, and opens them again. “I can do it. I’m very sober.”

Louis sighs. “Whatever. Let’s just fucking go.”

-

“We’re here!” Niall exclaimed as they reached their destination. Harry had been quiet almost the whole ride, and Niall had been chatting Louis’ ears off about this new game he downloaded while Louis was waiting for Harry. He mumbled a “fuck yeah, mate,” and got out first. Harry followed them into the building without saying a word, and he continued not to talk in the lift, still quiet when Liam and Zayn greeted them through the door to show of their new interior design. It was barely any difference, but Louis put his hands together and smiled anyway. Harry was barely talking as they say on the balcony, smoking and drinking and laughing.

Until Niall dropped some comment about a barbecue sauce and a café on the other side of Thames, and Harry wildly started talking about that particular barbecue sauce and one time when he and his friends put them down a teacher’s pants.

“It smells a lot,” he said, “and it was really fun at that time. I got suspended though.”

“I dropped out of uni,” Louis answered, and Harry gave him a shy smile that didn’t reach his closed off eyes, but the more wine they consumed, the closer they sat together, the friendlier Harry’s no-reach-eye-smiles became, and the more drawn Louis was to him. But, as always, Niall and Zayn got into a really lame-ass fight about a restaurant and some artist Louis had never heard of, and Harry was laughing amused, head tilting back towards the wall.

“Honestly, all I wanted was a nice evening with all of us behaving and having a good time,” Liam said, pulling his lips into a meek smile.

“Oh, shut it, we all know you invited us here so you could show the new couch you’ll fuck Zayn on,” Louis laughed and stood up. “I’m getting more to drink, but then I’m leaving. People to do and places to see.”

“Thanks for having me, but I think I have to leave too. I have somewhere else to be,” Harry said, getting up too.

“Nice meeting you, Harry, I think I speak for all when I say I’m looking forward to be seeing you again,” Liam said like the good host he was.

He earned a laugh from Zayn, and Liam swatted his arm and said, “I wasn’t trying to be funny, Zayn, I’m serious,” whereas Zayn laughed more.

Harry nodded, gave a polite smile, and walked back in. He was met by a Louis placed on a white couch that stretched out almost over the entire wall.

“Thought you were leaving?” Harry said, looking at the boy who had turned out to be exactly how he imagined.

“I am when I’m done,” Louis said and raised a glass of red wine. “Presumably with you?”

Harry didn’t say anything. He sat down, and Louis sighed. His mind started rushing; this was an obvious chance to ask Harry about that monkey man of his, and maybe, just maybe, find out how little he would care about Harry being in a relationship or not.

“Um, there _is_ something you should know, though,” Harry says, and maybe Louis doesn’t even have to ask about it?

“Spit it out.”

“There’s this one, tiny detail.”

“Get on with it, yeah?”

“I have this… bloke. A friend. But also more than a friend?”

“So a boyfriend, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have said boyfriend in mind right now?”

Harry stares down at his hands and Louis turns his back on him, moving towards the door and inching closer to getting the fuck out of there. He waits another second, and Harry presses out a small “not really.”

Louis turns around and glares at the tall boy who’s tilting forward on the couch with glassy eyes and a sad smile.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure you’re a good guy, but honestly, I don’t really care. I can’t really say I brought you here to become friends and hang out with us, since I would be lying if I did. And I don’t believe in lying. I just need to know if you’re down or not.”

Harry just looked at him, straightened up his back for a bit, staring towards the balcony where Niall, Liam, and Zayn sat.

“I think I am.”

There were a few things Louis believed in when it came to life. The most important one was apologies. He did not believe in them since it was all shit. Words are words, and when spoken, there’s no going back. You can’t use another word to try to cover for some other words that turned out to be bad. Saying something mean and then try to convince everyone you didn’t intend it to be mean is lying, which was among the other things Louis hated. He could play mindgames all day, but when it came down to it, he was brutally honest. He said what he meant and expected the same thing in return, which was also a reason why apologies were so meaning- and useless to him – they were saves for mistakes and stupid words. Of course you can make mistakes, you’re human, but you live and you learn, you don’t apologies and get away with it.

“You wanna come with me or stay with them?” is what he said next, and Harry gave a small smile before following.

-

Harry’s tongue was down Louis’ throat before they even got to the car. Louis didn’t push Harry off, he had no morals and didn’t care for shit about the boyfriend Harry himself didn’t even call a boyfriend. They got into the car on top of each other and Louis would have told Preston to get out and driven the car himself somewhere out of town if he wasn’t a little too drunk and if Preston wasn’t a little too used to these types of situations. But he did park below the Louis' apartment building and went out to have a smoke for long enough that Louis got to take a couple of more steps closer to fucking Harry, but it wasn’t near the time or space he needed for actually getting there. He had had a couple of good fucks in the back of that black Range Rover, but Harry was surely worth more than that.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry throws a party

It takes Louis less than one week to call Harry again.

“If you’re going out, bring me one of those red packets of candy, yeah?” Niall was sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper in one hand, a glass of juice in the other, and a blunt in the corner of his mouth.

“Red packets of candy?” Louis looked at his watch, 9.34 am, and shook his head. Niall was treating this tiny vacation they got from their jobs as some kind of drug get-away, and Louis’ feelings concerning it was confusing him.

“You know.”  
  
Louis certainly did not. He didn’t want to waste his time arguing about how vague Niall was being, as _always_ , and decided to answer with a “yeah, yeah, I’ll figure it out,” before heading towards the door in grey joggers, car keys in hand.

“Where _are_ you going, though? Not Harry, right?” Louis can feel Niall’s eyes in his back, so he turns around, half-smiling.

“Right.”

“I have a very hard time believing that,” he says while turning the paper, taking a long drag, breathing heavy smoke and choking down a cough.

“Who are you? My mother? I rather enjoyed last time we spent some time together, and it might be nice to hang out with the same person multiple times and get to know each other?” 

“Oh, you mean the time you left early to fuck in the car? And with ‘nice to hang out with the same person multiple times’, you mean fuck the same person multiple times?”

Niall put down the paper and his juice, keeping the blunt, and folded his hands on the table, giving Louis an icy look. “Honestly, I can’t support this. This whole ‘bang one out of your system’-thing is off the table, I presume? Louis. You never see someone twice. As happy as I am that you finally are, Harry’s in a _relationship_. He’s in love with someone else.”

Why does Niall constantly have to do this? Be loud and obnoxious and _annoying as fuck_ and almost always drunk or high, but when it came down to it, told exactly what Louis didn’t want to hear but still had to? He was wrong, though.

“I understand where you’re coming from, but since _when_ do you care who _I’m_ fucking? It doesn’t matter to me whatever Harry’s does with his time, and it shouldn’t matter to you either.”

“Don’t get hurt, ‘s all.”

Louis slammed the door shut. He doesn’t get _hurt_. Nobody breaks _his_ heart.

-

Harry is incredibly fucked up when Louis picks him up south of town. He briefly mentions an art gallery followed by red wine and him and Nolan having a fight.

“So you snorted your weight in cocaine to mend it?” Louis grip around the wheel tightens.

“He had someone else,” Harry looks out the window, and Louis glances at him from the corner of his eyes. Harry grips the edges of the seat, his knuckles white, and his curls looked damp from the rain. He was wearing as white shirt with the top buttons undone, the yellow coloured streetlights shining on his ivory face making him look even paler. 

Louis wasn’t sure how to respond, so he hummed quietly for a bit. Harry had someone else too, hadn’t he? Or maybe it was different? He let three minutes and thirteen seconds pass, and then pressed out a small “so do you.”

Harry is quiet for a while. Then he says, without hesitation once started, “Not like that. He didn’t have a lover or a friend that he used to fuck, he was dating another guy on the side and he was sleeping in his bed and he was dreaming of someone else for a whole entire year. He wanted to be somewhere else whenever he was with me, and he wanted to kiss someone else whenever he kissed me. It was unknowing unrequited love, and I used to crave him, I used to love him, and I wanted to be everything for him, but it was a lie and a sham and a bluff and I can’t breathe when he’s near.”

They stop at a red light, and Louis looks at Harry. His eyes are twitching and he can't stay focused, his hands are shaking and he looks a little drowsy. And suddenly Louis is the one who can't breathe and the feeling of falling mixed with the want and the need to punch a wall and kick Nolan in the head, who the fuck names their kid Nolan anyway?, overwhelms him, and then he can’t look at Harry anymore.

Harry was sad and Louis was uncomfortable and mad, and at the next red light Louis reached to the back seat for the bottle of wine he saved for when he got home and could be alone in his room, figuring it would help Harry more now than him later.

They were quiet for another moment, Louis lighting a cigarette without rolling the window down, Harry would obviously not be affected since he was high as a fucking kite, and breathed heavy smoke through his mouth before saying, “Are you still together then?” 

Harry nodded and drowned half the bottle in one go. Louis is a little impressed by that. “I’m gonna break up with him though. He says it was a mistake and he loves me, but I can’t believe it. Especially when I’m seeing you.”

Louis choked on his own spit. ‘Seeing him’. Was Harry dating Louis too? Would this then be their second date?

“We’re not seeing each other, you know that, right? You can’t break up with him to be with me. Don’t you dare break up with him for me.”

Harry looked a little lost and very sad for a couple of minutes before shifting positions, back now facing Louis. He let his hand rest on his leg, and even without looking straight at him; he could see Harry was shaking like a leaf. In conclusion, Harry was not down tonight.

Louis took a sharp left turn, Harry stayed completely still, and he drove them home. He texted Niall to get the fuck out of the flat and got a reply five minutes later he wasn’t even there to begin with. 

Upon arriving, Harry had closed his eyes and Louis wasn’t sure if he was asleep, passed out, or just playing. Nonetheless, he decided to carry him, well, part carry part drag him, into the lift, drag him through his door, and put him down on his bed. Louis managed to get his upper half onto the mattress without trying to hard, but had to break a sweat to get his giant-ass legs up. Louis should probably set up some rules for their hook-ups, like for one: don’t be high as fuck, and two: bring your own damn wine. 

He spent another couple of minutes taking off Harry’s shoes and putting him under the covers, making sure he was nicely tucked in. He pulled down the deep red velvet curtains, covering his big windows that stretched from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. Carefully closing the door behind him, he took the couch, not super keen on sleeping in the same bed as Harry. Not tonight, at least. 

-

Louis was not surprised to wake up in an empty flat. Harry didn’t leave a note either, and there was no text to be found in his phone. That little shit.

Not like he actually cares, but can the boy show some fucking gratitude? What was with people these days? 

Niall storms in five minutes later, dressed to the nines in suit and tie. He sits down on Louis’ legs and lights a fucking cigar, at what, nine in the bloody morning? 

“Good morning, baby doll,” he says with a sweet smile, and Louis slowly catches on what’s actually going on. Niall isn’t going out, he’s coming _home_.  
  
“You’ve been out until now?” Louis rubbed his eyes and yawned, feeling an undeserved headache on its way. He didn’t drink yesterday, not after three at least, and being punished like that was just simply _unfair_.

“Yes sir, good party an’ all that,” Niall smiles like he does when he has secrets to share, but Louis seriously cannot be bothered in this moment. He’ll still ask him about it, though.

“Do tell,” he says, and Niall starts talking, waving his hands in big circles, as he describes how Zayn had thrown up in some famous girl’s lap that he couldn’t remember the name of, and the giant fountains of champagne that had been placed in the formation of a star on the bottom floor. There had been a pool, white marble floor, and Niall had dropped ten glasses in twenty minutes, making them break and splash, even cutting some bloke’s foot up. 

There are no secrets in his story; just the description of an incredibly fancy party in a big house mixed with some elements that tells it was a crazy night. Louis is a little sad he missed it, especially since his night wasn’t the best.

“Why you sleeping on the couch though?” Niall asks after ten minutes, taking another drag, giving him a look. “Prince Charming’s in your bed?”  
  
“He was, yes, but because he was high off his fucking ass. And a little sad.”

 Niall scoffed a little, getting up slowly. “Shame. I’m heading to bed, see you in fifteen.”

 Louis pulled the blanket over his head.

 -

The invitation comes in their mail two days later, and Louis is surprised Harry remembers his address.

 “Or he looked it up,” Niall says as he rips the envelope up, glitter falling out along with a delicate paper that screams _money_. “What in the..?”

 “You do look rather foolish with that look on your face,” Louis bends over and pick up the paper. “It’s an invitation. From Nolan and Harry, to some party they’re throwing. What day is it today?”

“Tuesday.”

“It’s on Friday. We got any plans, any work, anything?”

Niall looks like he’s thinking really hard for some time, trying to remember any obligation they might have. “Nah, think Friday’s free.”

“Astounding. That is quite fantastic, innit? I am very curios to see what kind of party Harry’s trash boyfriend throws.”

- 

And some party it is. It is held at one of the largest hotels in the city, much alike Niall’s exploits earlier the same week, soft wooden floors paired with golden curtains and big windows, maybe the biggest ones Louis has ever _seen_. The party’s located on one floor, on the highest level, so close to the rooftop it just should have been held there instead. The place reeks of money, mixed with smoke that has found its way from the big balcony, a billion different perfumes, and alcohol. The couches and chairs scattered across the room in a pleasing formation are dressed in satin in a softer, but still golden, colour, and there’s tables and tables with food and drink. And, of course, a fountain of champagne, posing in all its glory in the middle of the big room.

Apart from the hotel room being one of the largest Louis has ever seen, it is also filled with people. People dressed to their teeth in their best suits, dresses and heels, lounging in chairs, hanging by the bar, on the balcony, chatting away, exchanging numbers, giving away cigarettes, toasting with one another, holding hands, whispering secrets, and talking so loud their ears should hurt. Somewhere in the distance there’s music playing, soft classical music, dulling down Zayn’s mode as he rushed out of the lift.

It’s not what any of them expected. This is a grown up party, the ones where you make connections, get really drunk, and probably cheat on your spouse. This is a grown up party where everything happens but nobody tells. 

Louis can’t spot Harry and doesn’t know what Nolan looks like, so they all shrug their shoulders, grabs glasses of champagne, and goes into the crowd.

- 

The first time Louis meets Nolan, he’s perched on a grand chair surrounded by ten other people, holding Harry in his lap and a glass of champagne accompanied by a cigarette in one hand, breathing smoke like a dragon guarding his most beloved treasure. He looks like a prince from hell, hair in the colour of fire and eyes brown, dressed in an all-black suit and leather shoes. An odd match, Harry and Nolan. Louis scoffs, what a fucking poser. 

The clock’s nearing midnight, and they have spent an hour and a half in the building. Zayn has, so far, drowned ten glasses of champagne, followed by Niall’s eight, and Liam’s five. Louis is still at his fourth, but has a feeling he’ll be speeding it up in a second. He’s pretty sure, after Zayn and Niall spent fifteen minutes together in the bathroom, that they were also very stoned. Very stoned. But Louis had lost them a little while ago, making sure Liam was with them, to find Harry, and look where he was.

Harry is dressed in a pastel coloured suit in a dusty rose shade. It’s very different from his usual attires and contributes to the fact that he looks like Nolan’s favourite accessory. Not only does he look like one, he’s also treated like one. He’s doesn’t say much, laughs a little too quiet at the jokes thrown around in the conversation, holding his glass very still, legs crossed. Sometimes Nolan reaches over, whispering something soundlessly into his ear, and Harry nods, seemingly going quieter for every time Nolan does that.

 Louis hates how he feels looking at the scene.

It takes five minutes for Harry to finally look up, his forest shaded tendrils a little darker than usual, paired with dark circles under his eyes that could be seen through the makeup used to try to cover them. Harry leans over, whispering something in Nolan’s ear when he has shut up for more than five seconds, who nods and lets go of the protective arm he had around Harry’s waist. 

Harry gets up and walks over to Louis, fires off a smile and stretches his arm out. He gives him a shoulder-hug, walking them over to the bar where Harry rests on his elbow, turning to Louis. Something is so fucking off.

“How is everything?” Harry says, waving a finger in the air to the bartender to top up his drink. 

“You’re asking _me_? How are _you_?” Harry furrows his brows at the question, like he doesn’t understand it, stirring in the glass with his finger.

He waits for a while and then looks up. A too-big-to-be-true smile plastered on his lips. “What do you mean?” he tilts his head, pressing his lips together, raising his eyebrows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis tone is cold and dry.

“Actually, I don’t. I can’t recall anything that supports this type of questioning,” Harry’s tone is colder, like ice sliding down your back, and Louis shudders a little. “Anywho, it is very prominent that your friends are, so to say, very on top of it. Any chance they’re willing to share?” Harry leans in, murmuring like it’s a secret and like anybody here would care that he gets high, but Louis can see Nolan’s eyes on him from across the room. They are very penetrating, those eyes.

Louis is taken aback by the request. Of course Zayn has various drugs on him, and he would probably share in a heartbeat, and Louis would normally not have any problem asking about it either. On the other hand, something was so completely off about the way Harry looked tonight, and acted, that he instead said, “They are _not_ high, thank you very much, and even if they were, they would not share it. Zayn’s possessive like that.”

Harry looks down at his hands for a little too long, and Louis notices how they are shaking before Harry puts them in his pockets before meeting Louis’ eyes again. For a second he could see behind those walls in his eyes that always protected Harry from the world. He tilted and shook his head a little, finding his way back to his normal look, followed by a piercing stare before pressing his lips together and disappearing. Louis feels lost, alone, and a little embarrassed, so he decides to get roaring drunk.

 -

Four hours later, they stumble out the lift into golden lobby, pissed off their arses, with Niall singing an Irish song no one had ever heard before and Zayn gripping tightly around Louis’ neck. Liam yelled a loud “thank you very much sir!!!” to the receptionist, who looked mildly confused, a little happy, and very irritated. 

Louis had spent the rest of the night completely _ignored_ by Harry, not even a single look, so it had taken him about ten minutes since Harry’s departure out of their conversation to join his friends, stealing drinks from people, hanging over the balcony, being loud, and, in general, messy and immature. He had had fun, though.

Louis gets two hours of sleep before Harry knocks on his door. It’s raining, hard, and some roads were flooded according to the radio Louis put on when he got home before he completely passed out, and no one wanted to go out and the TV looked broken and the power was down and everyone was at their homes, comfortably in bed. It was a bad day; a day to do nothing in fear of fucking something up, and Louis would've believed everyone shared that same feeling. Well, almost everyone. 

And he prayed to God that Harry would leave him alone, but he also let Satan know his gratefulness for making Harry never actually do that. 

"Can I stay for awhile," he said without making it sound like a question while stepping out of his wet clothes while stepping inside and Louis couldn't look at him and say no, so he didn't.

He let him.

And he let Harry lie down in his bed and listen to Frank Ocean on his new speakers while silent tears streamed down his face and with Louis sitting up next to him. Harry was a nightmare Louis couldn't and didn't want to shake. Maybe Louis was a fool. Maybe he had lost his mind and his brain along with it, but he kept his newfound, beating heart, and what that heart was screaming out.

They didn't speak. Harry fell asleep eventually, but Louis didn't move. His head was aching and his body along with it, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. His alarm, that he forgot to turn off, went off at six. He silenced it but didn't move. Instead he, finally, lay down, next to Harry, without touching him, but Harry, who must have woken up for a second, took his hand and put Louis's arm around him and Louis didn't do anything about it. He closed his eyes and let the ocean being Harry drown him for a while.

 -

 "You don't believe all that, do you?" Louis asks Harry as he flips through a magazine with a picture of Louis and Niall from the night before drunk off their arses on the front page.

"It's hard not to. I've witnessed it with my own eyes," Harry says without looking at Louis, but he can see his mouth form a little smile.

 "You haven't seen anything yet.”

 "Don't you have a job to do or anything today?"

 “No, I’m busy being hungover.”

 Harry doesn't answer, he just stares at a picture of Selena Gomez and some boy toy she picked up on the road to LA. They were sitting at Louis’ kitchen island, Niall still sleeping soundly in his room, drinking tea and gin from Louis’ least favourite cups.

It’s quiet for some time, Harry flipping pages and Louis staring at his phone trying to comprehend what Zayn’s latest text says, until Harry, almost in a whisper, says, “Is this all there is or does it get better?

Louis is a little startled, looking up, but Harry’s still staring at the magazine. "All there is to what?"

"Life. Is this a dream or reality? Is this really all we get? And I won't agree if you give me the "it's a blessing to just be alive", because there's gotta be something more to it."

 And Louis still wonders what Harry means, and he regrets his answer the moment it leaves his lips. “There isn’t."

 "That's what I am afraid of. It's hard not to be," Harry says and drags a hand through his loose curls.

Louis thinks for some time before speaking. He is curios about Harry, his thoughts and feelings and who he is. He really shouldn’t be, he simply can’t be, but somehow he feels like he has to. "Everyone fears some things. What do you mean?"

"Is this really the best picture they could possibly have picked?" Harry turned the magazine around and pointed at a picture of Katy Perry in a hideous blue dress making an ugly face, paired with some mean comment about her being “worst dressed”. "They could've tried. They don't have to be dicks that are big behind a screen but would lose their minds if they  _actually_ met her."

And so Louis lost Harry. Again. As soon as he was starting to get a grasp on what was going on behind those ocean eyes, Harry shut them, and Louis fell into darkness. 

 -

“At seventeen, how was I supposed to know?” Louis says and shows off that smile girls screamed a little too loud at. 

The interviewer nods, looking pleased with the answer Louis gave to a question asked too many times: did you ever imagine your life being like this? Being like what, Louis wanted to ask back. How do you describe his life? What is he supposed to do, to believe, how should he act, talk, be to fit in this life laid out for him? He needed to hear people say how they saw him, what his life was to them, since apparently, the only thing that counts in this lifeless, mirror-ruled world, is how other people see you, not how you see yourself. How was he supposed to know? All these early mornings and screaming and never-ending flights and shows and bodyguards, all these long nights and alcohol combined with the occasional drug, and now, this nightmare of a boy with hazel curls sleeping in his bed, safely in his house. It has been three days since Harry showed up on his doorstep asking to stay for a while, and he’s mostly been sleeping since. Sometimes he wants to fuck Louis, and Louis lets him as long as he stays sober. He has to take him in, keep more than one eye on him. Niall doesn’t approve, Liam certainly doesn’t approve, and Zayn is less than interested in what the fuck Louis does with his time.

He leaves as soon as everyone seems pleased with his performance, gets in his car and stops by Zayn and Liam’s flat. It’s been awhile, and Louis kind of misses them.

Niall is already there when he walks through the door, and Liam looks happy to see him. His eyes light up a little as he walks over to give him a too hard hug, and if Louis read the situation right, they’ve all just survived a fight they shouldn’t have had in the first place. Zayn looks out the window, and Niall is sitting by the kitchen island, pouring himself some whisky and lighting up a cigarette.

“Don’t light one if you’re not offering one,” Louis says and takes a seat.

“Who would you pick: Nicki Minaj or Rihanna?” Niall asks without looking up.

“Easy, Rihanna." 

As the words leave Louis’ mouth, Zayn gets up faster than when the ecstasy hits, and yells out “RIGHT, FUCKING RIGHT YOU DO” and it takes three seconds for chaos to break out as Liam starts yelling about Nicki’s rap career and Niall about her bum, but Zayn continues to scream about Rihanna and every single song she has ever done and everything else there is to like about her.

“You guys are fucking idiots!” Zayn finishes off with and Louis takes a big sip from the whisky bottle Niall put on the table and asks Zayn to go get some of those white pills he keep by his bed, because god dammit if he isn’t ready to go out tonight. Liam says some backhanded comment about Harry staying at Louis’, and Louis gives him the finger and says he locked the door and wouldn’t let that little junkie out in at least a week.

“Is that really your call?” Liam says and looks very serious, his eyes flipping around like they’re dancing.

“’s not like he has a job, or like his boyfriend or whatever the fuck he is, misses him.”

“Can we please stop discussing this and get the fuck out of here before we can’t find the door anymore?” Niall says before taking another little pill along with a shot of vodka.

Liam sighs unnecessary loudly and looks at Zayn, who shrugs his shoulders and says, “I don’t fucking care, Louis’ decision,” and Louis knows he has won. At least for now.


End file.
